


The Last Marauder

by Resa_Aureus



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Time Travel, Time Turner
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-19
Updated: 2014-02-19
Packaged: 2018-01-13 02:34:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1209550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Resa_Aureus/pseuds/Resa_Aureus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the wake of the war, Dumbledore's portrait gives Hermione a task that could change the course of history if she succeeds, but unravel time itself if she fails. 1ST PLACE WINNER of the Energize W.I.P. Awards for "Most Promising Harry Potter Fan-Fiction"! IN THE PROCESS OF BEING BETA'D.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dumbledore's Favor

**Author's Note:**

> This story is rated M for language, some violence, and future smut.
> 
> DISCLAIMER: I do NOT own Harry Potter or make money from doing this.
> 
> NOTE: This story is in the process of being beta'd by the lovely Anne Bonham-Knightley and wonderful Kennilworthy Thisp.

A/N. This story was originally posted at FanFiction.net and I have decided to bring it here for all of you to read as well. Enjoy!

...~oOo~...

Wandering aimlessly down a corridor, Hermione admired how far Hogwarts had come in terms of reconstruction in only a month. Most of the rubble had been cleared and the stone walls were beginning to be rebuilt. She ran her hand over the obvious deviation between new and old stone as she walked towards her destination.

That morning Hermione received a letter from McGonagall requesting to meet her for tea in Dumbledore's old office, which was now Minerva's with her new position as Headmistress. Hermione quickly sent an owl back agreeing to the time and place, but her heart was heavy to return to a place that she both loved and detested.

For years she thrived in classes here, made friends here, half of the memories of her life were here. But so was the death of many friends and the sorrow that came with war.

Hermione could only guess that the sudden meeting from McGonagall was the discuss Harry. Harry was riddled with survivor's guilt, as most of them were, but Harry hadn't left Grimmauld in weeks. It was becoming an illness and everyone was concerned and Hermione imagined McGonagall was no different.

It seemed like the only reason these days anyone wanted to meet with her was to ask about Harry.

Hermione came to the gargoyle outside the office and smirked as she gave the password, "New Beginnings." McGonagall was definitely one of the more optimistic ones.

But once she entered the office, her old Transfiguration teacher was nowhere in sight.

The office was just as Hermione remembered it, full of books and artifacts and Fawkes's little house and sitting rod. The Phoenix himself was standing there, looking young and pretty with his flame-colored feathers that flickered and glistening healthily in the light of the room.

"Hello?" Hermione called out tentatively as she slowly stepped further into the room. "Professor? Minerva, are you here?" She checked the note she'd folded in her pocket from McGonagall to double check that she had the right place and time.

"You've made no mistake, dear, I promise you that," a voice Hermione knew very well intoned.

Turning so fast her head jarred, Hermione looked to Albus Dumbledore's portrait. The man was sitting there with that same twinkle in his eyes, his half-moon glasses sitting on his nose, and his beard long and white. He just radiated this wisdom and sense of all-knowing that Hermione always hoped that she herself would possess once she was a hundred and fifteen years old.

"Professor," Hermione said with a small smile. "Do you know where McGonagall is?"

"I'm afraid," Dumbledore said, "that Minerva is busy currently, doing some preparation for your journey."

"Journey?" Hermione said, her brow furrowing in confusion. "What do you mean, sir?"

"Minerva sent you the letter for tea under my advisement," Dumbledore confessed. "I did not mean to trick you, my dear, but I did not feel the need to scare you unnecessarily before you arrived."

Hermione's head throbbed nervously. "I appreciate that, I suppose. But still, sir, what type of journey? I must admit, I'm quite exhausted from all the journeying I've been doing," she added with dry amusement.

Even Dumbledore grinned down from his frame at that. "I suppose you must be. I'm sorry to say, though, that I must ask you a favor, Hermione. A favor I cannot ask anyone else - something only you can do. A favor like this can change the path of history itself. It is a burdensome favor, one that I have no right to ask you, and will leave you lost, alone, and afraid. But still, I hope you understand why I must ask it of you." He paused. "Perhaps you should take a seat."

Fear rising in her chest, she pushed it down, and walked toward the chairs in front of the Headmaster's desk.

Dumbledore grinned. "Perhaps you'd like to sit in the Headmistress's chair?"

Hermione felt her eyes widen incredulously. "But, sir -"

"I insist, Hermione," Dumbledore said, holding up a hand to gently cut her off. "After all, I have a suspicion that you will be sitting there more often than not, given a few decades."

Blushing at the praise and at the concept that she could ever be a Headmistress, she slowly stood and walked around the desk to lower herself into the velvet-lined high-backed chair. Sitting in it made a surge of confidence and power surge up through Hermione, starting in her toes.

"It's brilliant, isn't it?" Dumbledore said with a knowing smile and a wink.

"Indeed," Hermione said admiringly. "But…sir. What exactly have you brought me here to do? The war is over and reconstruction has begun. As far as I know there are no especially dangerous Death Eaters loose. The only thing I can really think I could do was research something in the library for you." She grinned, because it was true. She was the bookworm, it was the only reason why anyone ever really needed her.

"You are worth far more than research, Hermione," Dumbledore said wisely. "You are the only one who can complete my task because you are so much more. You are the brightest witch of your age…and many other ages, I promise you. Brighter than any of the witches in my own, I'd say."

Hermione flushed again and smiled.

"Hermione," Dumbledore continued, "please open the top drawer of on the left side of the desk and pull out the wooden box there. I want you to open it up and look inside."

She obeyed, sliding open the ancient drawer and looking inside where she found a very pretty cherry wood jewelry box with intricate carvings of horses and ballerinas all around it. She lifted the beautiful box carefully and set it on the bare-topped desk in front of her. There was a small golden clasp at the front of it.

Carefully lifting the clasp and lid, inside the box was a maroon silk handkerchief. She glanced up at Dumbledore curiously, but lifted it out and placed it in the palm of her hand. She unfolded the cloth like the petals of a flower and inside found a small golden device that she was very familiar with.

"The Time-Turner?" Hermione gasped quietly, holding the little hourglass delicately between her fingers. She looked up at her old headmaster, confused. "But…sir, what am I to do with this? The war is over and no offense, sir, I really would not want to go back to it."

Albus Dumbledore gave Hermione a sad little smile. "I do not wish for you to go back to the war last month, my dear. But to a different war altogether - the first war. Or, more specifically, a few years before it."

"I'm afraid I don't quite understand."

"Hermione, I want you to prevent either wars from ever happening."

Eyes bulging, Hermione gasped. "But, Professor! Tampering with time is highly dangerous and extremely illegal! If I were to make one tiny mistake, it could mean Armageddon!"

Dumbledore laughed softly, his eyes still holding that sage sparkle. "I do not believe you would be able to end the world, Hermione. Quite the opposite, I believe you could save it. The war is far from over, you see. Harry has played his part and completed his own task, but the victory is naught. Because unbeknownst to even the Death Eaters is…there's another Horcrux."

With a big intake of breath, Hermione let out a small, but horrified noise, like a choke. "No," she murmured. "No, no, no."

"I'm sorry to say it, but yes, there is."

"What is it, then?" Hermione demanded. "I'll find it and destroy it and -"

"I'm afraid I don't know what the Horcrux is," Dumbledore said with a little bit of shame. "Only Tom Riddle knows that. But I know there is another. And because we cannot find it, you must prevent him from ever making it. By going back in time to James Potter's Third Year at Hogwarts."

"Why the Third Year, sir?" she inquired.

"Because it was the year Minerva came to acquire the Time-Turner," Dumbledore explained, "and the Time-Turner would not be in existence before then, which would create issues unknown to even the creators of the Time-Turner. No one's dared experimenting. With it, though, you will use it to go to James's Third Year and become friends with him, and Sirius and Remus of course. That trio was quite inseparable if I remember correctly." He grinned, thinking back to the days of the Marauders' schooling. He winked at Hermione. "Much like another trio I am familiar with."

"I'll be much older than them," Hermione pointed out, trying to reason with him that this would never work. "Thirteen-year-olds don't trust eighteen-year-olds."

"Look into the box again, my dear."

Hermione looked back into the jewelry box and saw something that she had either missed before or had just appeared. A small vial of thick, purplish liquid, a cork stuck in its top.

"By drinking that potion," Dumbledore explained, "you will decrease in age by five years. I'd recommend drinking it before using the turner, though."

She rolled the vial in her palm, examining it closely. It certainly didn't look very pleasant. It moved like syrup in the glass container.

"What would I need to accomplish?" Hermione inquired softly.

"Become friends with the Marauders, make sure they never trust Peter Pettigrew in the way that they did," Dumbledore outlined, "and once the time comes… destroy every Horcrux in that timeline and kill Voldemort yourself before Harry can become one as well."

Hermione's head was whirring like clockwork. "But… that would mean… in this timeline that James and Lily… "

"Will be alive, yes," Dumbledore confirmed.

"Sirius and Snape, as well." She looked at the Time-Turner with new eyes now.

"Indeed." The old dotty-eyed man nodded. "This timeline would become an undoubtedly brighter one. Harry might even have younger siblings, Sirius would have never gone to Azkaban and perhaps have a family of his own, and Remus will never have lost his friends and maybe take young Nymphadora Tonks as a wife, because she would be alive as well."

Hermione could see the possibilities all laid out for her. Harry would never go through the hell his life had been. He'd never be an orphan or have to live with the Dursleys, and Harry could have younger siblings!

Everything would be for the better.

Except for one tiny detail…

"Professor," Hermione said, looking up into the portrait's shining blue eyes, "there is one problem. The Time-Turner only goes back in time, not forward. So when I finish the task…how am I to return?"

The light in Dumbledore's eye dull and the wrinkles of his face deepened along with his frown. "I'm afraid the answer to that is regrettably simple… you will not return to this timeline."

Hermione's head fell forward with the impact of the statement. If she were to accept the deed, she would have to stay in that time and live it out, only to hope to see her friends and family again once she was nearly forty. Even then, none of them would know who she was.

"Fear not, my friend," Dumbledore said. "You still have the chance at a happy life. As long as you've performed the needed tasks of bringing down the Dark Lord and make sure everyone who is alive now remains so, you are free to live your life as you wish. Start a career. Raise a family. Be happy."

Take a deep breath and hard swallow, trying to dampen her cotton-dry throat, Hermione raised her head and shifted her shoulders back. "What am I to do?"

"It's rather simple. In precisely three hours, the moment the clock strikes four in the afternoon, you drink the potion and then turn the Time-Turner. In the wooden box is a slip of parchment with the number of necessary turns. And once you've arrived at Hogwarts and begin as a Third Year, destroy the Time-Turner and proceed with your task," Dumbledore listed solemnly.

"But this is the last Time-Turner in existence, what with the Time Room in the Department of Mysteries being destroyed," Hermione said, reluctant to kill such an artifact.

"It cannot fall into the wrong hands. You will be tampering with time enough without Tom getting his hands on it and reversing all the work you'll have done."

Standing from the desk, Hermione placed the potion, Turner, and handkerchief back into the jewelry box over the folded slip of parchment. She fastened the gold clasp and walked over to be face to face with Albus Dumbledore's portrait, the frame holding one of the most powerful wizards of all time, who defeated Gellert Grindelwald and played a key part in the destruction of Voldemort.

And he was asking her to change time. How could she refuse such a vital deed? How could she turn her nose up at making a difference in the same way Dumbledore had?

"Anything else, Professor?" she asked.

"Yes. I'd recommend bringing nothing with you apart from your wand and that jewelry box. It is a different era, after all. There is a second parchment with the number of turns that you should give to my past self upon arrival. Also…you should probably go to Grimmauld, to Sirius Black's bedroom when you do the turns."

This was a peculiar request but she nodded nonetheless.

"Farewell, Professor," she said slowly. "I suppose… I will see you soon." She gave a half-hearted smirk and lifted the box, acknowledging.

"Farewell, Miss Granger," he said somberly. "And good luck."

The young girl began walked towards the exit when she heard her old professor's voice say, "One last thing. When you get to Mr. Black's childhood bedroom, I'd suggest locking the door."

Hermione nodded very slowly and walked out of the office, the box containing both her future and past between her hands.

…~oOo~…

The call for an Order meeting at McGonagall's request was abrupt and worried many of the members. Especially one Remus John Lupin who was enjoying the conclusion of all the funerals he had to attend. It'd been thoroughly exhausting and insanely depressing and the oncoming full moon was doing nothing to help it.

So when he was called for an Order meeting at Hogwarts, he could not help but be reluctant to return to the battleground where he lost so many comrades and the girl he had found himself slowly falling for.

But he checked his watch; seeing that it was three-thirty and stood from his place on the couch and walked to the Floo. The green flames erupted around him and before he knew it, he was standing in Dumbledore's - now Minerva's - office. In the room were Molly, Arthur, George, Bill, and Ron Weasley, Harry Potter, Luna Lovegood, Neville Longbottom, and McGonagall herself.

"Oh, good, everyone's here. Hello, Remus." She cleared her throat. "I suppose you all are wondering what's brought on such a sudden meeting," McGonagall began. "But it must be now or else it will never happen."

Everyone looked at her curiously.

"Dumbledore, since before he died, had a sort of plan…" McGonagall began.

"Excuse me, Professor," Ron Weasley said politely. "But we're actually missing someone. Hermione hasn't gotten here yet." Harry nodded in agreement.

The Scottish woman let out a long sigh. "I'm afraid she is the reason we are having this meeting."

Everyone immediately began speaking urgently.

"Hermione? What's wrong with Hermione?" Ron sputtered.

"Oh, dear Merlin, she isn't dead, is she?" Harry demanded coldly.

"Oh, my dear girl," Molly sobbed while Arthur rubbed her back.

"Has she been hurt?" Luna inquired nervously. "Or injured? Has she fallen ill?"

McGonagall raised a single hand into the air that brought a halt to everyone's panicking chatter.

"Miss Granger," Minerva said carefully, "as of right now is perfectly safe, healthy, and alive."

"You say 'as of right now'," Remus said from the back of the room. His arms were crossed and he was leaning against a bookcase. "Are you implying that she will be in harm's way soon?" He was already worried for the girl who he'd developed a deep fondness and appreciation for. If anything were to happen to her… he'd be absolutely distraught.

"Possibly," McGonagall said tentatively.

"Professor," George said, "I think things would be considerably less tense if you stopped speaking in code." He had dark, sleepless rims beneath his eyes and his cheeks were thinner.

McGonagall nodded reluctantly, moving to sit in her chair behind her new desk. "Dumbledore always had a plan," McGonagall repeated, "that in the wake of a war, depending on its outcome and casualties, he would send a trusted and talented wizard or witch back in time to prevent it all from ever happening. Dumbledore - his portrait, that is - revealed to me a final Horcrux that he doesn't know the location of or what form it is in."

Harry dropped his head into the palms of his hands while a few gasped and Remus rested his fist to his forehead, eyes shut in despair.

"However, there should be no reason to worry about the final piece of Voldemort's soul," McGonagall said morosely, "because Miss Granger will be transporting herself back in time to stop it from ever being created."

The silence in the room was thick and harsh like a fog encasing all of them.

Remus shook his head. "No. No way did Dumbledore cook up such an insane plan. It's against nature, it's illegal, and nothing good comes from tampering with time. Even if Albus managed to order this from beyond his grave, Hermione is smarter than to accept a suicide mission like this."

Dumbledore's portrait spoke, "I'm sorry, Remus, but it is all true. I spoke with Miss Granger herself only a few hours ago. She accepted the mission and will be completing it soon."

"You can't do this, Albus!" Remus snapped, pointing at the portrait of his old headmaster. "She is only a girl! A child! How dare you ask so much of her just after she's lost everything!"

"She is not a child, Remus," Dumbledore said carefully. "She is the smartest witch I've ever met and a young woman who has survived war. She is not the girl you maker her out to be."

"You do not realize what you've done!" Remus shouted as everyone looked on with sadness and horror. "You've signed her death warrant! Tampering with time results in indeterminable amounts of deaths! I thought you smarter than that!"

"It can also end in many lives saved," Dumbledore continued sagely.

"Is that why you've sent her away?" Remus demanded coldly. "Because you're sick of being dead and figure she can save your life by doing this?"

"Not only my own," the old bearded man said. "But many. James, Lily, Sirius, Regulus, and everyone lost in the war. Surely that outweighs the consequences?"

"Sacrifice Hermione for all those lives, is that what you're saying?" Remus spat, the Wolf inside him howling.

"She could very well live."

"People die for a reason, Dumbledore!" Remus bellowed. "By taking it upon yourself - playing God once again - you could unravel the fabric of time! We could all be dead because of this!"

"Do you give Miss Granger any credit?" Dumbledore asked casually, not affronted at all.

"I give her all the credit in the world!" Remus hissed. "And I give you none for such a foolish move!" He spun around to face McGonagall and march up to her desk, smacking his hands down on the word to look her eye-to-eye. "Where. Is. She?" he growled.

McGonagall kept her chin high and didn't even blink at the werewolf. "Preparing for her journey."

"I mean specifically!"

"Remus…" Harry said softly.

"Quiet, Harry!" Remus snapped and then turned back to the Headmistress. "Tell me. Now."

"You won't be able to stop her, even if you got there in time. She is a stubborn girl and is loyal to Dumbledore and her mission," McGonagall quipped.

"Then you should have nothing to worry about, then," Remus snarled. "Just answer the damn question, Minerva."

Looking mildly offended, McGonagall sneered delicately, but answered, "Grimmauld Place. She will be gone from this timeline in less than ten minutes."

...~oOo~...

~ So Long And Thanks For All The Fish ~

 


	2. Knick of Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione meets the young Master Sirius Black.

…~oOo~…

It was ten minutes from four o'clock so Hermione took a deep breath and emptied the thick, syrupy purple liquid down her throat, trying to avoid it touching her tongue. The smell was awful and she imagined the taste couldn't be much further off. Closing her eyes, she let out a sigh and waited for the potion's effects.

Sure enough, a few seconds later, she felt her bones begin to tingle and shift painfully. She let out a shocked little cry, but waited for it to be over. Her skin was crawling over her muscles like there were beetles scurrying under it.

When the pain numbed, Hermione opened her eyes and looked at the red-and-gold decorated room from a shorter perspective. She turned to the full-length, dusty mirror and found that she looked just as she did when she was thirteen. Gangly with frizzy, curly hair, and prominent front teeth that she was only just starting to grow into. A light dusting of freckles speckled her nose.

Just when she was beginning to look nicer, she was the ugly duckling once more, Hermione thought with a sad shake of her head. Not that she ever particularly cared about the way she looked, still it had been nice getting a compliment every once in a while. Now she remembered vividly Snape's comment of how he didn't see any difference in her after Draco had hexed her teeth to grow down to her knees.

She looked at the time and decided it was time to begin turning.

…~oOo~…

"Hermione!" Remus called out desperately as he scaled the staircase of Number 12 Grimmauld, taking two steps at a time and running. "HERMIONE! WHATEVER YOU DO, DO NOT TURN THAT TIME-TURNER!"

Harry and Ron were mere steps behind them as they all started calling out her name, begging her to stop whatever she was doing. They were frantically checking their watches every other second, having only a minute left.

Remus found the door with the gold nameplate reading "Sirius Orion Black III". In a panic he threw open the door, screaming the girl's name.

Remus only caught a flash of the girl sitting on the bed before she disappeared from his sight and his era.

The clock chimed four.

…~oOo~…

When Hermione finally finished turning and was quite dizzy from the horrible suction of time travel, she found herself swaying where she sat Indian-style on Sirius Black's childhood bed. The room did not hold a bit of dust anymore and all the Gryffindor themed paraphernalia was brand, sparkling new instead of faded and graying. The bed sheets weren't flat and threadbare, but full and comfortable. The pillows were fluffy and the bed frame wasn't broken.

The room was, however, rather untidy. Typical boy bedroom, with socks and Quidditch gear lying around and hanging like ornaments.

Hermione was about to stand up when she heard the screaming downstairs. Screaming she knew all too well, unfortunately, but she had only ever heard it come from a portrait before. These screams Hermione could tell were from a very alive and very healthy Walburga Black.

The woman who Hermione knew for screaming out derogatory slurs towards muggle-borns was screaming, "SIRIUS BLACK, YOU GOOD-FOR-NOTHING SON OF MINE, YOU COME BACK HERE THIS INSTANT BEFORE I TAKE MY WAND TO THAT UNGRATEFUL ARSE OF YOURS!"

"I'D LIKE TO SEE YOU TRY AND CATCH ME!" a very loud and haughty young male scream replied. Hermione gasped when she heard the proximity of the reply - it was only feet away from the closed door, she imagined.

There was more screaming on Walburga's part but all Hermione could hear were the nearing footsteps and then the creaking doorknob and hinges as a young boy walked in, muttering to himself, before Hermione could find it in her to move.

The young, thirteen-year-old Sirius Black froze in his doorway when he saw the girl sitting on his bed. Being a wizard, things as trivial as this weren't normally something he dwelled on, but…she was in his room, after all.

Hermione knew it was Sirius right away. His black, curling hair fell over his ears and forehead messily and his very dark eyes glittered like obsidian. He was already fairly tall for his age, but over all wiry, and hadn't quit grown into his feet or hands yet. But he was very cute as a boy, Hermione thought with some amusement, obviously a sign of his dashing good looks later on.

"Um… who are you?" Sirius asked politely.

"I'm… uh… Hermione."

Sirius paused, considering this. "If you're looking for Regulus, he's in the next room."

"I'm not…really…looking for…anyone," she stuttered. "Actually, that's a lie. I guess I was supposed to be looking for you, but then I don't really know why I'm here and, well, everything is just incredibly confusing right now."

Sirius looked her up and down, taking in every detail. She was on the skinny side, with a bushy mane of chocolate hair and pale skin. She was wearing a jumper and jeans and had a pretty wooden box in her hands.

"So…you don't know why you're here?" he clarified.

Hermione shook her head.

"Well," Sirius said. "I can only say you have really bad luck for landing you in this house, of all the homes you could have possibly showed up in. But I suppose it'll have to do, won't it?" He gave a friendly wink. "Come along, dinner is almost ready and I think my mother would like to know that you're staying in the house."

Hermione was god smacked. "What? Stay? In your home? B-but…you don't know me! Are you mad?"

"A little," Sirius said with a shrug, walking further into the room and kicking off his shoes, tossing them lazily into the corner where they landed on a miscellaneous book. "But you look pretty confused and lost, so it would be rude of me to just throw you onto the street, wouldn't it? And if there's one thing we Black men are, it's gentlemen." He gave a chivalrous bow. "Now, come along… Hermione, you said your name was? Interesting name. I'm Sirius. Sirius Orion Black."

Deciding it was best to just play the dumb card instead of going off into a long, time-traveling explanation of how she knows him already, she nodded politely and said, "Nice to meet you."

"Likewise," he answered. "Now, by the looks of the way you're dressed, I'd guess…muggle-born?"

Hermione's eyes got huge and Sirius smirked. "Don't look so surprised, love," he said simply, walking towards his closet. "As purebloods, we've basically been trained how to pick out your sort. And while this may seem like an… unorthodox request, for your own sake, tonight you will be a pureblood. My mother would throw you out if you were anything else, unfortunately. Now, what's your last name?"

Hermione made a snap decision. She hadn't prepared a back story for herself, but knew instinctively that her time travel should not be commonly known until perhaps after she'd completed her task. So she decided that she would play a victim of a memory charm, perhaps being Obliviated.

"I… don't remember," Hermione said, trying to sound convincing.

Sirius paused but then smiled, "Sorry about that, but it's actually perfect. As long as you don't know your last name, you won't have to claim to belong to any pureblood lineage."

"REGULUS! SIRIUS! SUPPER IS READY!" Walburga Black bellowed, practically shaking the house.

"Well, I guess this is it," Sirius said, giving her a smile. "I'm sorry if this is all strange, but…I'd venture your family was probably attacked by You-Know-Who. It's been happening a lot lately. People wiped of their memories, wandering about Diagon Alley and the Ministry. It's a shame, really. If that's the case for you, I only want to help. If you don't trust me - which I can't blame you if you don't - it's fine." He held out his hand, giving her the option of running out of the house screaming or going with him.

Hermione slowly took his hand and Sirius gave her a smile. He hooked his arm around hers and led her from the room and towards the dining room, which would no doubt be a very interesting experience.

The dining room was like she remembered it, large with a big oak table and portraits on the walls. Already sitting at the head of the table was a tall, broad-shouldered man that looked shockingly like the Sirius that Hermione knew from before her time travel and his death. This must be Orion Black. His hair was primly cut though, pushed back, and not as curly, but had a silky wave to it. He had only a mustache as well, which was trimmed and sitting beneath an aristocratic nose.

Sitting to his right was a very beautiful woman with long, curling black hair and a petite nose and heart-shaped face. Walburga Black's screaming and frown-lines obviously hadn't caught up with her quite yet, seeing as she was quite the beauty, looking dignified and bored as her husband read the Prophet.

Regulus was sitting beside his mother, his hair pushed back like his father's and looking distinctly scrawny in his button-up shirt and slacks. As a matter of fact, Hermione realized that all three of the Blacks sitting at the table were wearing very fancy clothing. Orion was wearing a tailored shirt and waistcoat and Walburga wore a dress that fell to her knees and high heels.

Walburga then saw her eldest son walk in and looked mildly surprised at the guest. "Sirius!" she hissed. "You did not inform me that you had company." She sent him a scathing glare.

"I wasn't aware until a moment ago, myself, Mum," Sirius said with a shrug. "This is Hermione, everyone."

Hermione gave a little wave, feeling her face get hot and her heart throbbing rapidly.

"Hermione… what? What is her surname?" Walburga asked, obviously fishing for blood status.

"She doesn't remember," Sirius said firmly. "She doesn't remember much, do you?"

Hermione shook her head.

"You know how it's been," Sirius continued. "You've all been reading the Prophet. Witches and wizards have been having their memories wiped left and right as of late. And it just happens that this one landed on our doorstep. It would be rude of us not to provide her a hot meal and a warm bed for the night. And we wouldn't want to be rude, now, would we, Mum?"

Orion put down his copy of the Daily Prophet and examined the girl before him. "Come and sit, girl. We have plenty to eat and more than a few spare rooms. It's a pity about your memories, of course, and my son is right. It would be impolite for us not to invite you to stay for the evening."

Walburga scowled but called out towards the kitchen to Kreacher that they'd need an extra place setting.

Sirius pulled out Hermione's chair for her, the one directly across from Regulus, before sitting beside her, across from his mother. There was a heavy silence around them while Kreacher began setting out the meal and plates. Hermione was uncomfortable with letting the house-elf - even one as unpleasant as Kreacher - serve her. It went against her beliefs, but she kept her mouth shut.

"So, Hermione…" Walburga mused. "No recollection of a family?"

Hermione shook her head, continuing her charade. "Not at all, sadly."

"Then I suppose it would be best to take you to the Ministry tomorrow," Orion stated. "That way, if you've been reported as missing then you can be returned to your family."

"But what if she hasn't been reported as missing?" Sirius inquired, raising an eyebrow. "What if her family's one of the ones in hiding from You-Know-Who? What if they've been wiped out and she has no place to go?"

"Orphanages are built for a reason, Sirius," Walburga informed him and she cut into her chicken with her knife in a very lady-like manner.

Sirius sneered. "She can't be sent there! Isn't it bad enough she doesn't remember anything from her past, but you want to throw her into an orphanage where she'll be around even stranger people. No." He crossed his arms. "I will not have it."

"Don't speak to your mother that way, Sirius," Orion admonished without any real heat behind it. He seemed to be a very mild man, quite stoic. "But you do have a point. It would be wrong of us to put you in a stranger place after the ordeal you've no doubt been through." He paused. "Do you know of your blood status, girl? Surely that is something one cannot forget even under the most horrific circumstances."

"I'm a… well, I'm a pureblood, sir," she said meekly. Sirius sent her a secret wink and she sighed in relief that she must have declared it believably.

"Then I see no reason," Orion continued, lifting his wine goblet, "why, if you have no family, we shouldn't take you in and make you a Black."

Walburga looked horrified. "Orion! We do not know her! She could be dangerous! She's fresh of the streets, could be unstable -"

Orion held up a hand that made Walburga shut her mouth automatically. "She is only a child," Orion said firmly. "I highly doubt she is dangerous. She looks no older than Sirius, after all. Further, she will be a Black if the Ministry permits. And with a little polishing, I don't doubt she would make a lovely wife for Sirius one day."

The young Sirius Black let out a bark of a laugh. "Worried that if I don't marry her that I'll marry a half-blood instead?"

"I would be worried you'd marry scum, is what I worry about," Orion sneered. His face smoothed out a moment later, though as he cleared his throat. "She will be raised from here on out in pureblood society. Arranged marriages are commonplace, need I remind you. If Hermione allows it, we will take her into the family with open arms. Won't we, Walburga? Regulus?"

Both wife and youngest son reluctantly nodded.

"Then it's settled," Orion said with finality. "If the Ministry cannot find your family, you will become part of ours."

Hermione swallowed hard. This most definitely wasn't what she expected to happen.

…~oOo~…

Hermione woke up in an unfamiliar room. It took her a few minutes to remember where she was and the day she had ahead of her. She sighed at the thought of being adopted like a puppy that Sirius brought home, but decided that for her mission, this was a good thing. If she was in the Black family, she could become close with Sirius, and then James and Remus as a result of it. By doing this, she was a large step closer to step one of her task.

Already Sirius was acting like he'd known her longer than a few hours, she thought with some satisfaction. But then, Sirius had always been known for doing whatever pissed his mother off most, and Hermione figured that all this was to do just that. First being Sorted into Gryffindor, next was slipping a muggle-born into the house right under Walburga's nose.

There was a knock on her door and the visitor did not wait for an answer to walk in. Walburga was already dressed for the day in a plain black dress and a string of pearls around her neck. Her thick, dark hair was piled in a pretty knot on top of her head.

"Good morning," she said coldly. "I've brought you some clothes to wear to the Ministry until we go shopping for you. It's a dress from when I was young. I imagine it will be loose on you, but nothing a little altering won't fix." The woman held a black dress with a knee-length skirt; it cinched in at waist, had a sweetheart neckline and long sleeves.

Hermione swung her legs out of bed and took the dress, examining it slowly.

"Well, put it on," Walburga pressed.

Blushing, Hermione reluctantly began slipping out of the jeans she had slept in. It was pretty embarrassing that Walburga expected her to undress in front of her, but wanted to stay in the woman's good graces and obey. She slipped the dress on and found it to be loose in the chest region, but that was all. The waist was comfortably snug, the sleeves as well.

With a flick of Walburga's wand, the dress's bust was fitted to Hermione's small breasts.

"Sit on the bed and turn your back to me," Walburga ordered.

Hermione did as she said and felt the woman's cold hands begin manipulating her uncontrollable hair.

"If you are to be a Black," Walburga said, "which I expect you will, seeing as the Prophet has no record of reporting a missing girl by the name Hermione, you will listen to these rules. We are a very powerful family in the wizarding world and we do not tolerate slackers or blood traitors. We are respectful to our elders at all costs, but do not allow anyone to bully us. I will teach you proper etiquette and eventually you will attend dinner parties. If I am to allow you to stay under my roof, I expect you to be a good daughter. Do you understand, Hermione?"

"Yes, ma'am," Hermione automatically replied, terrified of what Walburga would do if she said any different.

"Oh, my girl," Walburga said simply, "it's 'mum' now."

Hermione sighed but said, "Yes, Mum." The word tasted terrible in Hermione's mouth and she found herself longing for her real mother, the obliviated woman who was still living in Australia when she left. Hermione knew that she'd never see her again, but forced back the tears threatening to surface in her eyes.

"There," Walburga said, sounding satisfied. "It will have to do."

Hermione reached back to feel the long French braid the woman had worked her hair into. Curls and frizz still sprung from the plates, but it was as good as it would get. Hermione stood and walked to the mirror to examine herself and found that she looked like she was prepared to attend a funeral.

Walburga came up behind her and rest her long, manicured nails on Hermione's shoulders. "You have potential," she said begrudgingly.

"Thank you, Mother."

With almost a mechanical quality, Walburga bent down and pressed a kiss to the crown of Hermione's head. "Good girl. Breakfast will be ready soon and immediately after we will go to the Ministry."

Once Walburga exited the room, Hermione began to cry. The same way she had the night before in bed until she fell asleep. The same way, she imagined, that she'd cry a hundred times before she would get used to this world.

She didn't realize how loud she'd been sniffling until the ancient door creaked open again and in walked Sirius. He looked a little awkward to find a girl crying, but then again, most boys were awkward when girls cried.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

Hermione, trails of water still crawling down her cheeks, shook her head slowly.

"It's not all bad around here," Sirius said, trying to be optimistic for her. "Well… okay, yeah it is all bad around here, but look on the bright side. In a month, you and I will be going to Hogwarts. Do you… maybe… remember Hogwarts? Or whichever school you went to?"

She had to play it safe, so she shook her head again.

"Well, Hogwarts is a school, you see. And you stay there all year-round." He smiled broadly. "I'll introduce you to my friends and you'll make some friends of your own. It'll be great, I promise. Hogwarts is like Heaven to the Black household Hell."

Hermione smirked at that, "Alright. I believe you," she said, because it was so true.

"Only downside is Regulus will be there too." Sirius scowled. "He's a Slytherin, which isn't great. No worries, though, I'd reckon that you're a very nice girl and nice girls never get sorted into Slytherin. See, there are Houses as Hogwarts…"

Sirius went on to explain everything Hogwarts had to offer in an almost reverent manner, like he was speaking of his religion. Hermione, of course, knew all these things already, but a warmth filled her chest to be reminded that she would be there again, when it wasn't rubble and filled with war. Hearing Sirius speak about it with so much awe made her just as excited, like it was her first year all over again.

Only a month, Sirius had reminded her multiple times. So it was the middle of summer, Hermione figured out. She cringed to think she had to spend her time in Grimmauld for an entire month, but it would be worth it, she told herself.

"…But that's enough for now," Sirius said. "Wouldn't want to melt your brain with too much information."

Hermione chuckled. As if her brain could possibly melt from information overload. She'd been cramming knowledge into her head since she learned to read.

"Let's get down to breakfast," he said, reaching out to pat the top of her head. "And then you can be adopted. Perhaps we'll hold a party."

The girl groaned.

Sirius raised an eyebrow. "You don't want to have a party?"

Hermione shook her head as they started walking out of the room.

"Well, I'm afraid you're going to have one anyway," Sirius informed her gently, hooking his arm around hers. "My mum's big on production and the public eye. She'll want to inform the world that she took in a poor orphan girl with amnesia."

With a sigh, Hermione said, "I suppose there's no avoiding it, then. It's alright."

"Perhaps I could persuade her to invite some of my own friends so you can meet them," Sirius mused. "James, at least. You'll like James. He's such a clown and his hair sticks up like a porcupine. Looking at him is amusing in itself."

Hermione and Sirius laughed and the sound of it echoed down the stairs they were walking on and Walburga was able to hear it from the dining room.

"HURRY UP, YOU TWO!" the woman shouted. "BREAKFAST IS GETTING COLD!"

"As if they don't make heating charms for this sort of thing," Sirius muttered to himself. Hermione smirked, but they quickened their pace to the dining room. Regulus was nowhere in sight, but Walburga and Orion were there, sitting and drinking their tea, their plates empty.

"Where's my brother?" Sirius asked.

"Dear Regulus is sleeping," Walburga said with an adoring smile. It was obvious who her favorite son was.

They ate breakfast in silence and once it was over, Walburga gave Sirius a long, observing look up-and-down. "You plan to go to the Ministry dressed like that?"

Sirius looked down at his ensemble of jeans and a t-shirt. "Well… yeah," he said like it was obvious.

Walburga shook her head furiously. "Return upstairs and put on proper clothes: a tailored shirt, your maroon waistcoat, and nice trousers. Do you understand?"

Sirius gave a sigh like he knew how to choose his battles and excused himself from the table.

"Come, we'll wait for him by the door," Walburga said, gesturing for Hermione to follow her. Orion was close behind them as they entered the foyer.

Walburga drew two coats from the closet and handed one of them to Hermione. It was a large, knee-length fur coat that was obviously real. Hermione hesitated in taking it, but knew to keep her mouth shut and accept the "hospitality" Walburga was offering her. Before Hermione could take it from Walburga's hand, Orion took it and held it open for her in a gentlemanly manner.

Orion Black was a very quiet man, in a way that almost could make on suspicious. But Hermione just gave him a small smile and slipped he arms into the coat so he could do the same for his wife.

Sirius came down the stairs, shoulder slumped, and looking miserable. He was wearing a black on black striped tailored shirt and a maroon waistcoat over it with deep red stripes as well. His trousers and shoes were perfect and scuff-less, almost like they'd never been worn. Hermione smirked because though this younger version of Sirius seemed to hate the clothes, it was something his older self would not hesitate to put on.

He came to the bottom of the stairs and said, "Let's get this over with."

Hoping to brighten his mood, Hermione commented, "You look dashing."

Walburga grinned dryly. "Indeed you do, Sirius. Except for the hair of yours. Couldn't make the effort of brushing it, could you?" She gave a small sniff and walked towards the Floo.

In minutes they were in the Ministry. Last time Hermione was there, she had drunk Polyjuice potion and had almost got arrested. She kept an eye on everyone around her in an almost paranoid way. Old habits died hard.

It took about an hour for the Ministry to confirm that there was no missing person with her name, but did confirm that there was recently a massacre not far from London that three recorded survivors have been found with no memories. They said that if she was another survivor of that event, then she most definitely had no family. Immediately hearing that, Orion demanded adoption papers.

In less than an hour, Hermione had a birth certificate reading "Hermione Walburga Black". And looking at the name made her break out in gooseflesh.

"Welcome to the family," Sirius said quietly, not sounding excited, but more like he pitied her. Hermione nodded in thanks and received another cold kiss on her head from her new mother.

"Now let us buy you some clothes of your own," Walburga said, her long talon-like nails squeezing Hermione's shoulder in what was meant to be affectionate, but just stung as they left small marks in Hermione Black's skin.

...~oOo~...

~ So Long And Thanks For All The Fish ~


	3. Old Enemies, New Enemies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some rivalries were not left in the future.

…~oOo~…

The dinner party held for Hermione's "initiation" into the pureblood world was terrifying. Hermione had never seen so many faces she'd encountered in history books or on the walls of Grimmauld place over twenty years in the future. A lot of the names she was introduced to she'd seen before but never had the chance to have a face put to it.

Hermione almost choked when three young girls entered the room. The oldest was tall and thin and had a massive mane of black, curling hair and a creepy smile. The one looking to only be slightly younger had light brown hair that fell in waves around her shoulders and the youngest of them was a blonde in braids.

Hermione almost fainted to think that these were Black women who she held at infamous standards in the future, all young and not much older than herself currently. They were all pretty to look at, but she knew at least two of them could be ruthless. Her arm, where the word "mud blood" was carved in, glamoured to be invisible, stung.

Thankfully, Sirius was by her side the entire time and reached out to give her a gentle squeeze of her wrist. "Those are our cousins. Bellatrix, Andromeda, and Narcissa, Narcissa is the youngest. I should warn you though, Bella is as scary as they come. Narcissa isn't so bad, just really quiet, but Andromeda is my personal favorite." He smiled. "She's an absolute sweetheart."

Just as Sirius finished giving his new sister the background on the girls, they walked over while their parents went to see Orion and Walburga across the room.

"So," Bellatrix said as she approached Hermione, her pointy chin held high in the air, a regal sneer on her face. The woman had to be about twenty years old. "You're the stray my aunt took in. You're lucky it wasn't our doorstep you landed on. It would have been straight to the orphanage for you, if not the dungeon."

Hermione was taken aback that a grown woman would talk to a child that way, but this was Bellatrix. In another life, the lunatic of a woman tortured Hermione to within an inch of her life.

"Always good to see you, Bella," Sirius said cheekily. "I hear congratulations are in order." He nodded pointedly to her left hand where a large diamond sat on a silver band.

Snatching her hand behind her back defensively, Bellatrix sneered at her thirteen-year-old blood cousin. She then strutted away without a single word, seventeen-year-old Narcissa close in tow, who gave a respectful nod before going off.

Andromeda, a pretty girl about eighteen, stood behind and gave her cousins a smile. "I apologize for her behavior. She really isn't always that terrible."

Sirius raised an eyebrow doubtfully. "Are you sure about that?"

Andromeda sighed. "Alright, I lied. But Mother tells us to say that when Bella flies off the handle in the presence of company. She's actually a lunatic and this engagement hasn't put her in a better mood."

"You'd think getting married would brighten a person, but I suppose Bellatrix would be the exception," Sirius grumbled, obviously holding great contempt for the crazy woman.

Hermione forced herself not to nod, because she wasn't supposed to know the extent of Bellatrix's crazy, at least not yet.

"I'm Andromeda, though," she said kindly, holding out her hand. "Nice to meet you and welcome to the noble and ancient house of Black."

Hermione shook her hand and understood right away why Sirius declared in her original timeline that Andromeda was his favorite cousin. She knew, of course, that soon Andromeda would be blasted from the family tree for marrying a muggle-born, but that didn't seem to have happened quite yet.

"Thank you," Hermione said, shaking the woman's hand.

"I hear my Aunt Walburga plans on marrying you off to Sirius, here, eh?" Andromeda said with an apologetic expression. "Sorry that you're going to be stuck with him forever. I fear purebloods are a little medieval that way."

"Oi!" Sirius said, puffing out his chest comically. "I'm not all that bad. And it isn't our fault our family is so stuck in the past that they have arranged marriages to only respectable pureblood families."

"Oh, the glories of inbreeding," Andromeda said sarcastically. "Perhaps… in this next generation there will be some change." She gave a small, knowing smile and a wink, putting a finger to her lips as to sign to keep what she said a secret. "I hope to see the both of you more often. Now, my mother is waving me over like I'm an owl at her bidding. Farewell."

"Told you she was the best," Sirius said with a grin.

Hermione nodded in agreement.

…~oOo~…

The next month passed slowly for Hermione and Sirius, who were confined to Grimmauld and only went out when Walburga dragged her three children shopping. Hermione only saw Orion in the evenings and on weekends, but he seemed nice enough, if not a little too solemn. He'd be politely affectionate with her, the same as with his sons, dropping short kisses to her and Regulus' heads. Sirius didn't really get kissed on the head, probably because he was older than Regulus and a boy. Sirius didn't seem to mind though.

One weekend, they went on a family outing. They went to a wizarding museum, but they found out halfway through that the only reason Orion suggested the little day trip was because he had business with the curator. Regulus was stuck to Walburga's hip like a tumor while Sirius and Hermione explored the corridors of the large museum on their own. Portraits and paintings danced before them and the statues waved. One statue, of Godric Gryffindor, saluted the duo and Sirius straightened up like a soldier and saluted back, making Hermione laugh.

Then Hermione, Sirius, and Regulus all received their Hogwarts letters and it was time to go shopping yet again.

Diagon Alley was absolutely packed with children and parents and people rushing through the crowds to try and get to work.

Regulus was holding onto Walburga's hand while Sirius held Hermione's. Sirius and Hermione had become very good friends in her short time with the Blacks, and she really appreciated a familiar face that didn't want to kill her. On top of that, Sirius always took special care to make her laugh and cheer her up when he saw she was getting gloomy.

"Mother," Sirius said, "I'm going to take Hermione to Quality Quidditch Supplies."

Hermione inwardly groaned. She should have guessed by all the posters in his room that Sirius was another Quidditch fanatic, but she had still been hoping he wasn't quite to the same obsessive degree as Ron and Harry.

"At one o'clock, meet us back at the Leaky Cauldron, understand?" Walburga said firmly. If they were at home, she would have screamed at him, but seeing as they were in public she had to play nice with her least-favorite son.

"Yes, Mum," Hermione and Sirius said in unison. Sirius began pulling his sister by the hand, pushing his way through the throngs of people, towards the Quidditch supply store which was absolutely overflowing with boys and girls, some pressing their faces to the front window to gaze longingly at the newest broomsticks.

Some things, Hermione thought with a shake of her head, never changed no matter the era you live in.

Sirius wasn't the type to be kept waiting or even to be patient while some people left so that there was room, so he just continued keeping Hermione at his hip and swimming through the people, getting a lot of comments from them like "Watch it!" and "Oi!" and "Don't be a prat!"

"Quidditch," Sirius said proudly, "is the most amazing game in the entire world."

Hermione chuckled. "I somehow highly doubt that."

He raised an eyebrow. "Do you even remember what Quidditch is?"

"No," she lied quickly, "but I have read all the books you have on it in the library and I have to say it doesn't seem as amazing as everyone's worked it up to be."

"You and your books." Sirius rolled his eyes. "Pages cannot properly communicate how glorious the art of Quidditch actually is!"

"Art?" Hermione snorted, throwing her head back with a laugh while they worked themselves into a bit of clean air near the Keeper helmets. "It's a sport, Sirius, not an art!"

"You have to see a game to truly see that the game really is a masterpiece."

Hermione just shook her head and rolled her eyes.

"Here!" her brother said enthusiastically, lifting a leather helmet from the shelf. "Try this on! I bet you'd make a fabulous Keeper!" And he smacked the leather helmet down onto her head pushing down the brown bush of her hair by force.

"Sirius!" she snapped. "My hair is bad as it is! Take it off!"

Sirius was holding it down on her head, smacking away her hand as he clipped it under her chin. "Quit struggling! I think you look great!"

"I'm going to have helmet hair!" she said angrily, smacking his wrist. He pulled his hands away, having already managed the clasp.

Hermione was feeling at the straps under her chin, trying to fiddle with the release, but to no prevail. It was a complicated clasp and she didn't have a mirror and she grunted as she prodded at it with her fingers and Sirius watched on with amusement.

"You look fetching," he commented, grinning that charming grin that he was known for.

"Sirius, who is that poor girl that you are failing to flirt with?"

They both turned around the see two boys standing in the aisle as well.

Hermione's first thought of the speaker was "Harry!" but a second later she saw that this boy had blue eyes, not green, and lacked a lightning bolt-shaped scar on his forehead, but was identical to her best friend the Chosen One in every other way. Her heart thudded, realizing that this was the famous James Potter at thirteen.

And next to him stood a boy that Hermione look a little longer to recognize. He was average height for a boy of thirteen and had shaggy blonde hair and silvery eyes. There was a scar through his eyebrow and his shoulders were slumped in a way that made it clear he wasn't fond of being noticed. The way he kept his head angled downward was the sign of a shy boy. Hermione was gobsmacked when she put two and two together in her head and knew him to be her future professor, Remus Lupin.

"James! Remus!" Sirius greeted joyfully, his smile only broadening. "What are you two numpties doing here?"

"The same reason as you," James said, gesturing the around the store as if it was obvious. Which it was.

"Harassing girls?" Remus inquired quietly, his brow furrowed, but a smirk on his lips.

"I was referring to the merchandise which the store sells," James corrected, "but, yes, I suppose we came for some of that as well. You still haven't answered the question, though. Who is this pretty girl?" He gave Hermione his best winning smile.

"This, my friends," Sirius said, throwing his arm around Hermione's shoulder and bringing her forward into the light, "is my sister."

Both boys looked very confused. Remus had a calculating look in his eyes, trying to find out if he'd missed something over the past few years, but James was just shocked.

"No way that a girl as nice-looking as that came from your mother," James said doubtfully. He turned to her again with a smile. "I'm James, by the way. James Potter. Pleasure you make your acquaintance." He strutted forward, took her hand in his and kissed the top of it.

Sirius smacked his friend's wrist, hard. "Hands off. She's mine."

James scowled his disgust.

Remus joined in, "I hope you realize, Sirius, that just because your parents are cousins does not mean you have to continue the incestuous trend."

Sirius let out a bark of a laugh. "But she's so adorable, why wouldn't I want to marry her?" He pinched her cheeks affectionately.

Hermione slapped away his hand prodding her face and said, "Sirius, don't be such a git. You enjoy grossing out your friends far too much." She turned to face the two boys. "Orion and Walburga adopted me. I'm not actually his sister. My name's Hermione, by the way, since Sirius is far too rude to properly make introductions. And your name is Remus?" she asked the boy leaning against the shelf in a worn-out jumper and holey jeans.

He nodded. "Remus Lupin." He held out his hand to be shaken and Hermione obliged. "I'm sorry that both my friend and your brother are idiots."

"Oi!" James and Sirius said in unison.

"It's alright," Hermione said with a smile. "I'm starting to get used to Sirius, how hard can acclimating to James be?"

"Harder than you think," Remus whispered conspiratorially, giving a friendly wink.

"So," Sirius's voice interrupted their conversation, "James, how much did you have to pay Remus to come into the Quidditch store?"

"He didn't give me a Sickle," Remus said dryly. "He just took it upon himself to literally drag me."

"Is that an ongoing trend?" Hermione inquired, rolling her eyes.

"Oh, please," James said, shaking his head. "If I'd let him get to Flourish and Blotts, he would have never come out! I needed to do something!"

"Same for Hermione," Sirius said. "She's a bookworm if I've ever met one. I reckon she's read through half the family library in only the last month! She devours books like Peter devours pudding."

The boys all snickered at that, but Hermione's heart dropped from its place in her chest and into her stomach. Peter. There was only one Peter they could have been talking about. Hermione swallowed hard.

"You like books?" Remus asked her.

She nodded fervently.

"Then if you'd like, we could go to Flourish and Blotts while our comrades raid the Quidditch supplies," Remus offered kindly.

"Sounds wonderful," Hermione said with a smile. Even though this Remus was a lot smaller than the one she remembered, having him near her for only a few moments brought her great comfort. Remus had always been her favorite Defense Against the Dark Arts professor and went on to be a very good friend, one that she could actually carry out an intellectual conversation with while the boys were all talking sports or chess.

"Oi!" Sirius said. "Aren't you going to ask me if it's alright first?"

Hermione gave him a sharp look. "Why would I have to ask you permission?"

"I wasn't talking about you," Sirius said. "I was talking about Remus! He's about to take my sister away, shouldn't he ask for my blessing?"

Remus smirked at his friend, a light blush coming to his cheeks. "I'm not courting her, Sirius, I'm just walking her to the bookstore."

"Courting, walking, marrying… it's all the same to me!" Sirius said tauntingly, putting his hands on his hips and doing his best impression of Orion's constantly somber look. "You must ask permission to spend time with her."

Hermione took a Bludger off a near shelf and pitched it into her brother's stomach, making him stumble back and knocking the air out of him with an "oof!" James pointed at Sirius and laughed, but was cut off when the exact same thing happened to him from Remus.

"Let's go, Remus," Hermione said with a satisfied smile. "I think we're done here. See you at the Leaky Cauldron, Sirius!"

She and Remus were nearly at the door when he said, "Oh, wait a second. You're still wearing the Keeper helmet."

Hermione gasped, hands flying to her head and found that he was right. She blushed furiously in embarrassment, but Remus just smiled and reached under her chin to unclip the helmet for her, throwing it to the nearest shelf. He then held the door open for her like a gentleman.

At Flourish and Blotts, Hermione realized that she and Remus had even more in common with the books they read. They each talked about their favorite texts and laughed about particular books. He helped her reach higher shelves, but needed ladders at times since they were both still only kids.

Perhaps, Hermione thought, being in this timeline wouldn't be so bad after all. She'd already become a sister to Sirius and she could easily imagine a friendship with Remus, even James.

She genuinely smiled at the thought of her new future for the first time in a month.

...~oOo~...

~ So Long And Thanks For All The Fish ~


End file.
